


Fadewalker

by Chromatic_Spark



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Andraste - Freeform, Bloody, Character Death, Cult, Dalish Elven Culture and Customs, Demons, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gore, Half Elf, Languages and Linguistics, Love, M/M, Old Gods, Old magics, Original Character(s), Other, Pining, The Blight, The Fade, The Veil (Dragon Age), demonic possesion, enventual romance, is it fate or chance, long story, minor cannon changes, new magics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:35:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28834980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromatic_Spark/pseuds/Chromatic_Spark
Summary: Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.Foul and corrupt are theyWho have taken His giftAnd turned it against His children.They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones.They shall find no rest in this worldOr beyond.-Transfigurations 1:2Grace seems cursed to live in two worlds at once. Never at peace, always working. When at last she claims her gifts it doesn't quite work out the way she thought.
Relationships: Fenris/Original Female Character(s), Hawke/original female character(s), Solas (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s), Sten (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s), Zevran Arainai/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

I was only 13 when we met. I knew about him of course, every time he roared the ground beneath my master’s home would shake a little. Just enough for the dust to fall from the rafters and just often enough that you couldn’t forget he was there. At least I couldn’t.  
No one else ever seemed to acknowledge the way the whole village would shudder every so often. If they did it was put down to something foolish, like the dwarves in the deep roads doing something odd.  
I never mentioned it because I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, I had enough problems.   
That day had started just the same as most Sundays. I woke early to make breakfast for my masters then after they had eaten I would accompany them to the Chantry. They would sit at the front as befitted their status, I sat at the back, which befitted mine.   
After the sermon and songs, I’d scuttle back to the house as fast as I could to prepare lunch, afterwards I’d clean the house and sweep the front paths. That was when the master’s son found me.   
It was a warm summer's day and I was humming a psalm to myself as I swept. Trying, as I often did, to escape the reality of my lot in life.   
“Walker!” He snapped behind me, I jumped and turned quickly, eyes on the floor, back straight, feet together.   
“Y-Yes, Master Jacob.” I stuttered and even in the edges of my vision, I could see him grinning ear to ear.  
“Have you cleaned my room yet?” He crossed his arms over his wide chest. He was portly even for a boy of 15 and would have been made fun of for it, were he not a vicious brute who would hit out at those who dared say anything to him about it.   
“Y-Yes, sir! I have only the paths left than I’ll start to prepare dinner!” I chirped to him and he continued to grin.   
“Leave the paths, follow me.” He turned and began to walk around the side of the house. I knew he was up to something, another indignity on top of the many he’d served me before. As I trudged after him I wondered dolefully what it was to be this time, a bucket of water over my head or a muddy puddle to push me in? The only thing I had to do was not cry.  
If I cried he got angry. If I cried I’d ruined his game and he hated that. He would hit out at me. He’d split my lip and blackened my eye more than once, even nearly broke my arm.   
Every time, his parents would reprimand me for upsetting him. I would be left without dinner for a day or two then everything would return to normal.   
He led me to the back garden and then to the very rear of the carefully manicured grounds and behind a small group of apple trees that had only recently lost their bloom. He stopped and pointed at the craggy wall just beyond them and grinned again. I was wary, this was a new game and I didn’t like being so far from others. Even if they didn’t hold him to account for his torments, his parents did stop him from going too far.  
“Stand facing the wall with your hands up against it.” He pointed and demonstrated with his hands what he wanted me to do. I took a deep breath and did as he asked, propping the broom I still had with me against the wall before leaning on it with both hands, facing away.  
I had a second to enjoy the cool air under the branches and the soft earth under my bare feet before he touched me.   
He’d come up behind me and wrapped his hefty arms around me, at first he just grabbed at my waist but quickly migrated to my chest and over my stomach.  
“What are you doing, Master Jacob?” I squeaked, trying to jolt away from him. He had a firm hold on me and was twice my size though so I didn’t get more than an inch from him before he dug his fingers into my skin and pulled me against his chest.  
“Shut up.” He growled in my ear. “Keep your hands on the wall and hold your tongue, or I’ll see you thrown out of my parent's house.”  
I stifled a sob as he continued to run his hands over me, squeezing and pinching me here and there, drinking in my reactions.   
“Father says knife-eared whores like you are only good for cleaning houses and warming beds.” He chuckled and I squeezed my eyes shut, reciting the chant in my head in an effort not to be here, not to respond to him. “Let's see if he’s right.”  
As he spoke one of his hands dipped down to run up the inside of my thigh. I reacted without thinking. I grabbed the broom and jabbed the handle behind me, poking hard into one of his eyes. He howled in pain but let go of me and I squirmed away, holding the broom out between us like it could help protect me.   
“You stupid knife-eared slut!” He yelled and grabbed the broom, wrenching it out of my hands. All I could do was wrap my arms around my head as he began to beat me with it. I barely felt each blow, even though they each bruised terribly, as I felt my heartbeat in my ears and the flow of fire in my veins building terribly.   
I fell to my knees as he hit me again and again till at last, he broke the handle over my back. He grunted an insult and stormed off, likely to inform his parents that the half-elf ‘servant’ they had so kindly allowed staying in their home had lashed out at him without provocation.   
I sat in the shade for a moment, controlling my breathing as best I could and repeating whole canticles of the chant in my head until I felt calm enough to stand.   
My back was crossed with long red welts that would turn to purple bruises by the time the sunset tonight and I winced as I bent to collect the broken halves of the broom and slowly headed for the shed to stow it.   
I was moving automatically. I had no idea I was bleeding until some dripped into my eye and I swiped at it mindlessly. When my hand came away coated in blood I simply turned towards the kitchens where I washed my hands and face, the cut was shallow and was already clotting, I could see in ghostly reflection from the window that it bisected my right eyebrow and the skin around it was puffy and already darkening.   
I could hear Jacob crying from here, feeding his parents the lie that I knew he would. I wondered what my punishment would be, a week without food? Two weeks? Or perhaps I’d be made to sleep outside again.   
I put away the dishes that had been drying on the side and made sure the kitchen was ready for me to start dinner. I was chopping some vegetables when Master Thomas slammed open the kitchen door, face beet red and full of fury.  
“You little bitch! After everything, we’ve done for you! You attack poor Jacob? How dare you!” His voice echoes around the room and I wince with each word. He grabs the back of my dress and hauls me out to the drawing-room where his rotund wife is comforting his rotund son.  
“Ah, there you are Miss Walker.” She’s icily calm and composed. Seated on the Chaise with Jacob sat next to her, leaning into her shoulder, I’ve blacked his eye. It’s no less than he deserves. Her husband forces me to my knees in front of them, then walks to stand behind them, one hand on his wife’s shoulder.  
“Mistress June, please-” I begin but she cuts me off with a tutting sound. The kind you’d use to reprimand a dog. I fall silent and keep my eyes on the floor.  
“Jacob informs us that, for no good reason, you attacked him whilst you should have been doing your chores.” She’s stroking his hair while he grins evilly at me. “We have put up with a great deal of poor behavior from you but this is the last straw, do you understand?”  
“Ma’am?” I look up at her and she peers disown her nose at me.  
“We have called for the brothers to come and get you.” She says the words like they should mean nothing but they are the worst things I could have heard.  
“No! Please!” I feel tears forming in my eyes and I bow forwards in supplication. “I’ll be good, I promise!” I beg over and over but I know in my heart there’s no escape.   
I grab at her leg desperately but she kicks me away to sob on the rug.  
“Pathetic, I don’t know why we ever kept you.” She snarls. “You and your filthy mother!”  
That’s when it breaks, the iron grip on my temper I’ve had all these years. My tears dry and I find my voice. I stand and face the terrible family, the contempt on their faces fueling the fury flowing through me.  
“You are the filth here! You terrible, selfish, soulless wretches! Ar ju’myathash dhea'him Fen'Harel numin ma din!” I scream, descending into the language my mother taught me as I cover my face to try and hold in my anger.  
Two men in chantry robes burst in and at the shocked families urging they take hold of me roughly and drag me out of the house towards the chantry while I howl insults and curses at them in both elven and the common tongue. People stop to stare at the scene and I see the horror on their faces briefly before the huge doors close behind us.  
I’m thrown into a closet, left empty to house those who have been deemed ‘unworthy’ in the village. The door is covered in scratch marks and it smells like the desperate sweat of those who came before me.  
I curl up in the corner and weep openly for the first time in months. I know this room, though I have never seen inside, I’ve heard the pleas and howls from inside and I know what happens to those locked in the dark.  
In an effort to calm myself I begin reciting the chant of light, again.   
“Hear now, Andraste, daughter of Brona, Spear-made of Alamarr, to valiant hearts sing, Of victory waiting, yet to be claimed from, The steel-bond forgers of barren Tevene…”  
I started quietly at the very first canticle, by the third section I was singing loudly, tears running down my face, voice dulled by the splintering wood around me.  
“Enough, child.” The door opened and stood, in silhouette against the light, was the only man who could save me.   
“Father Mattias! Please I-” I scrambled to my feet and he hushed me.  
“Come, child, it is time to face judgment.” He beckoned to me and I forced myself to follow him. I stumbled out into the light and he led me down the aisle to the front of the chantry, the air was cold in here even in the heat of the day. The pews were empty and only a few brothers and the father were there with me for now.  
“Kneel here before the Maker and blessed Andraste, child.” He pointed to a raised dais that had been placed there for me.   
I climbed on and knelt in supplication as I had seen others do before. Soon the rest of the village would arrive, they would all judge me and doubtless find me guilty.   
I watched as they entered, all bright clean faces full of shock and scarcely hidden excitement. That is except the servants, they slunk in behind their masters, avoiding looking at me and huddled at the back of the room, clinging to each other like children. Almost all of them were elves and almost all of them hated me.   
“Welcome Faithful of the True Chantry!” Father Mattias called out to the congregation when everyone was seated and the doors shut. “We have here another who, by her actions, has proven she is not fit to bathe in the light of Andraste and the love of the Maker!”  
There was murmuring throughout the room as they realized whose servant I was. My former masters sat in the front row, round chins stiff with pride while their son leered at me with unhidden joy.  
“Say your name for the congregation, child, so that the Maker may know you.” He shouted and I took a breath.  
“Grace Walker, daughter of Keiran Walker and Lorelai Oranvara.” I say simply and the Father nods at me.   
“Grace! Your crime is simple, you attacked young Jacob as he was at play, marking his eye and drawing blood.” He continues turning to the crowd. “This was an attack without provocation and while Jacob defended himself honorably it is the attack with which we are concerned.” How easily they twisted it so he was the victim, despite the darkening bruises that were forming over my body.   
I wanted to cry out, to tell them what happened but I know it didn’t matter. I had seen it all before. The accused was never heard, in fact, any attempt to defend themselves only made things worse. Contrite silence was all they wanted and was all I would give them.   
“I put it to you, the Chosen of Andraste, will young Grace be forgiven or will she be cast into the darkness to face the wrath of the Maker?”  
“Wrath!” Came the first call, echoed by another and another until the crowd was chanting it continually. The walls shook and the bells in the steeple rang with the vibrations.  
At last, the Father raised his hands and silence fell.  
“So be it! Grace Walker, tomorrow at dawn you will be taken to the darkness and given to the Makers glory so that we all might be saved!” I closed my eyes at his words and let the cheers of the crowd wash over me.  
I was dragged from the dais and thrown back into the cupboard where I slumped down in the corner to listen to the congregation leave.   
Soon I was alone in the dark, my eyes were strong and I could see small details of my prison, the scratches in the wood, even graffiti left by former inmates. Some in the common tongue, others in elven, and I even saw some dwarven runes.   
I curled into a ball and pressed my forehead to my knees, a lifetime of hard work and little food had left me leaner even than most full-blooded elves and it was easy to bend almost in two as I wrapped my arms around myself for the small comfort it provided.  
Exhaustion took me sooner than I expected, alone in the darkness as familiar hunger gnawed ceaselessly at my stomach and I resigned myself to hopelessness.


	2. Chapter 2

The Fade was oddly homelike tonight. Where once I feared the ever-changing illogical landscape it felt familiar as my own heartbeat now.   
In the waking world, I was trapped, in part by my own passiveness and in part by duty, but here I was free.   
I unfolded myself and stood, the door was still locked but that had little meaning here as I pushed a wall aside to step through. The chantry floated in a dozen fractured pieces above me while spirits wandered to and fro.   
I left and turned away from the village towards the hills, climbing slowly upwards towards the sky where countless islands drifted in the air like clouds given solid form. In the far distance was the shadow of the black city, always there to help you navigate. I stood at the highest point I could reach and took a deep breath, allowing everything that had happened to come rushing out of me. I screamed and fire burst from my hands as I roared my defiant anger towards the heavens.   
No spirit nor demon approached me that night as my despair overcame me. I tore apart the hills and mountains with the magic I had worked so hard to suppress, one last chance to release. One last chance to be me.

I was barely awake when the door opened and I was pulled from the dark. My hands were bound in front of me and a gag tied around my head as I was led at an agonizingly slow pace from the chantry towards the woods to the south of the village.   
The Father walked in front, reading from the chant of light as we proceeded. A brother with an incense burner followed after, then me and then anyone who wished to witness my ‘ascension’ as the Father called it.  
The air was cool and the ground damp with dew. I tried to focus on the birdsong and the feel of the earth beneath my feet as we walked.   
At last, we came to a huge oak, centuries-old with roots sprawling from the ground in every direction as it towered above, blocking out the watery light of the new day. Between two roots was a deep hole, carefully maintained to be as smooth-sided as possible. The hole was deep enough that no person could climb out of it but the fall into its depths would not harm them.   
What lay beyond it was a secret known only to the Father and to those who had been thrown into its depths. I swallowed at the thought.  
The Father began his sermon while I was ushered forward to stand at the edge, my hands were untied and I was hustled to look down at the darkness. I could barely hear the rise and fall of the Father’s voice over my own heartbeat.  
When someone pushed me I didn’t scream, only gasped soundlessly as I plunged downwards and hit the bottom with a thud. My only hurt was skinned knees and I looked up at the dim circle of light above, trembling with fear and indignation. I swore to myself and looked into the passage beyond.  
It was dark beyond measure, deep beneath the ground, too deep for the sun to reach and the smell was horrific, worse than anything I had experienced.   
I heard the people above me leaving and I gritted my teeth.  
“Fen'Harel ma halam” I cursed them before wrapping my arms around myself and walking on into the gloom.  
The passage was longer than I thought and it sloped steadily downwards. I could feel by the air that ahead there was a large chamber where the smell was coming from. Oddly there was a faint glow ahead, eerie blue-green light that seemed to come from the walls.  
As I got closer I saw it was a strange breed of mushrooms growing from the walls and ceiling with abandon. They filled the chamber with dim enough light that I could see the outline of the beast.   
It was sat, hunched over, against the wall. Shaped like a man with impossibly long arms and legs. It raised its shaggy head and two glowing eyes peered at me from its shrouded face.  
“Ah, another lost soul to join me in the dark. Come, girl, come and sit with me.” Its voice was more erudite than I would have expected, It spoke of education and regality, of civil pursuits and conversations. Not of the thing lurking in the darkness.  
It was a demon, I was sure of that. I had never seen one with my waking eyes but enough had attacked or attempted to trick me in the fade I was familiar with their kind. I’d seen demons of sloth, wrath, desire, and even pride but never this creature.  
“What are you?” I asked, my voice small in the space, I kept to the entrance, hoping if it attacked I could at least flee out of its reach. It was too large to fit down the tunnel. It chuckled darkly.  
“I am old, girl. Old and tired and lonely. Will you not come and sit with me?” It raises its arm to gesture in front of it but I can see the outlines of what remained of the last souls thrown into this pit.  
“No,” I say plainly and it laughs again.  
“So little elf, you will sit in the doorway and starve rather than come and speak to me before you die?” His voice is pleasant, calm, and charismatic. It’s tempting to do as he asks just to keep hearing it.   
“If my options are to starve or be eaten I chose to starve.” I stand as straight-backed as I can and it laughs again, a deep resonant sound of sincere amusement.  
“Have it your way, little elf.” He subsides and falls silent.  
“What are you?” I repeat and I can almost see him smile, a terrible grin full of needle-sharp teeth.  
“Manners now, little elf. You have yet to tell me your name.”  
“I asked first.” I cross my arms.  
“No, you asked ‘What’ I am. ‘What’ and ‘Who’ are very different questions.”  
“Very well. Who are you?” I huff.  
“I am Malikai, and you?”  
“Grace, Grace Walker.” It's odd to be exchanging pleasantries with this creature but I have the feeling its curiosity will keep me alive longer than resistance.   
“And what are you?”  
“Half-human, half-elf,” I say plainly, shrugging my shoulders. I assume it, he, can see me. As my eyes adjust I can see more of him, long hair covering a muscled torso and long tapered fingers each with a razor-sharp claw.  
“Ah, too human for the elves and too elven for the humans.” He jokes and I have to smile at the absurdity of this truth.   
“Very true. What then, Malikai, are you?”  
“I am a demon, a demon of Malice in fact. The Demon of Malice.” He was proud, chest puffed out as he spoke.  
“Then what are you doing here?”   
“I would ask the same of you, but I could guess. Some boy put his hands on you and you responded in the only way you could. He went crying to mummy and she had you tossed in here to be my lunch. Correct?”   
“Yes, what of you?” I’m not surprised he’s heard my story before. I’d suspected other girls had suffered my fate.  
“I am trapped here. A loathsome wretch tricked me and now I am stuck forever, doomed to feast on the few measly souls his descendants chose to toss at me.” He growls and digs his claws into the filthy ground.  
“How long have you been here?”  
“What year is it?”  
“Dragon 9.20.”  
“Nearly 200 years.” He sighed, leaning back heavily on the chamber wall. “I remember the sacking of the golden city, the first blights, and the rise of the one you call Bride of the Maker. I am aged beyond counting and I am trapped here till I am released or I perish.”  
“Can’t you free yourself?” I feel an odd kinship with this beast, both imprisoned against our will.  
He raises a claw to touch the ceiling and I see a ripple of blue light from it and his hand is thrown back.  
“I cannot penetrate that barrier as I am. It has cut me off from the fade and I am powerless.” He sighs.   
I reach out and touch the air where the light had flowed past me. I can feel it now, the soft thrum of magic. It’s old but strong.   
“If I could free you, you could dig us both out,” I say softly and he laughs.  
“If you could grow wings you could fly out of this hole and into the sky.”  
“I mean it,” I say more firmly but he snorts and turns away from me. “Hey!”  
I do something then I have not done outside the fade since I learned I could do it. I open my hand and compress the mana in my body into a ball of flame in my palm. I fling it at him and it bursts over him, revealing his horrific body in all its dark majesty.   
He sits up and squashes the flame with his hand.  
“A mage!” He roars. “You did not say you were a mage.”  
“You didn’t ask.” I’m glib in my triumph and he roars with laughter.  
“Still. This barrier is beyond a child’s magic. No doubt you do not have the knowledge to break it.” He leans towards me, eyes full of sadness.   
“So tell me how.”  
“I cannot, it is something that must be learned through experience.” He slumps a little then perks up, eyeing me carefully. “If you were to let me enter your mind and control you for a moment I could break it and we would be free.” His voice is soft now, lilting and velvety.   
“So I would be an abomination possessed by you? No thank you.” I cross my arms again and he growls.  
“A deal then. I will touch your mind, only for as long as it takes for your heart to beat once, enough to give you the knowledge you need. Then you break the barrier.” He lifts his hands as he speaks as if to illustrate his actions. “I will dig us out then we will go our separate ways. You to find a better place to live and me to enact my revenge.” He grinned widely at the thought and I had to admit the idea of the village being torn apart was a good one.   
“Sounds good,” I say, thinking carefully. “With two conditions.” I hold up two fingers and he huffs.  
“What conditions?”  
“You are not to harm me in any way for the rest of my life, that includes sneaking up on me later to eat or possess me.” I put down one finger.  
“You wound me, I would never be so uncivilized.” He says with a smile.  
“Secondly you will not hurt any of the servants in the village. They are as much a prisoner here as you are and don’t deserve to be eaten by you.”  
“How will I know which are servants?” He rests his head on his hand and raises his brow.  
“They’re all elves.” I shrug and he nods.  
“Agreed. Do we have a deal then?” He smiles widely and I hesitate.   
Truthfully what other choice did I have? I could condemn those who condemned me, or I could die in this pit.  
“We have a deal.” I hold out my hand as if to shake his and he smiles.   
“Come forward, Grace.” He beckons and I step into the chamber at last. “This may hurt but only for a second.”  
Before I can ask any questions or protest he touches my forehead with one tapered finger. My eyes roll back in my head and I feel my mind fill with static. Images fly past, of mages long ago, creating and destroying barriers like this one. I see how they do it and how to replicate it. I understand.  
A heartbeat later and my vision clears. I’m on my knees before the beast and breathing hard, my skin is coated in sweat and I feel hot as if I have run for miles.  
“By the gods, what was that?” I breathe and he laughs. To my surprise, he slips one hand under my arm and helps me stand.  
“A lesson. I hope you learned it well.”  
“A moment.” I close my eyes and think of the visions I have just seen. It’s so simple now I’ve understood. I pull my mana close and shape it carefully like a spear.   
I open my eyes and see it glowing in front of me, lighting the fiend in front of me. He grins at me as I hurl the spell at the wall.   
The barrier shatters and the ground quakes worse than I have ever felt, it is hard to keep my balance and great clumps of damp earth are falling from the ceiling.   
Huge, strong hands, pluck me from the floor and tuck me close to a foul-smelling body. He begins to dig upwards, using one arm as the other cradles me and then both feet as we climb up and up through the dirt to the open air.   
He sets me down and I stumble back from him, coated from head to toe in filth. In the light of day, he is truly monstrous. He looks up at the sky and laughs in triumph, voice resonating amongst the trees. He is taller than the house I once kept and stoops to look in my face.  
“Thank you, little one. I go now to reap my revenge then return to the fade. Live well!” He stands and heads off towards the unsuspecting village. His long legs take him far from me before I can recover.  
I follow his path, I have a simple plan by the time I reach the outskirts of the village. It’s not much but at the moment a little counts for rather a lot.   
There’s screaming, fire and blood. I barely recognize the place, Malakai seems to have headed for the Chantry and the Father’s house. I hear him laughing as he rips the buildings apart.   
I walk calmly across the main square to the house I used to tend to. The door is hanging open so I just walk in, heading to my little room off the kitchen. It was little more than a cupboard but it was mine and luckily they hadn’t thought to remove anything yet.  
My clothes and belongings are still here. My few precious things too. A small knife that belonged to my father, a halla statue of my mothers, and their wedding rings on a leather cord. I wash quickly, though little can be done for my hair. It’s so matted with mud it would take hours to clean. As it is it almost looks black rather than its natural deep chestnut. I wind it into a knot on the back of my head and cover it with a scarf. That would have to do for now.   
While I put the things I need into a pack I can hear my unlikely savior ripping apart the houses nearby. I needed to hurry or he’d kill me by accident.  
I need boots. It was customary for servants in the village to be barefoot, there was some idiotic reason given for this like being closer to nature but in reality, it was a way of keeping us here.  
I steal a pair belonging to Jacob, his feet are not massively bigger than mine so they will do. After a moment's thought, I head up and pull up the loose floorboard in Master Thomas’s study. The one he hid from everyone. The one I found. Inside was a bag of gold and several bits of jewelry. I had no idea where he got this from but It would serve me better than him now.  
“You!” I look up after stowing my new riches and see Jacob quivering with anger in the doorway. “You did this!”  
“If you want to live I suggest running. That thing is out to kill or eat everyone.” I say, standing up and slinging my pack over my shoulders. It was heavy but I could bear it.   
“Bitch!” He ran at me and I lifted a fist and lit it on fire. It was coming easier now, the magic. Fire was simple, you just thought about heat and it was there. He stopped, fear of my magic overtaking the hatred in his heart.  
I could have let him go. Let him run.  
He was dead before he hit the floor.  
I left the house and headed for the south road, there were a lot of people headed north to the closest town but I had no desire for them to notice me. I was just another elf running from the carnage. Who cared where I went?  
I stopped for a moment at the edge of the trees, my road would take me through the woods first and I would lose sight of things quickly. I turned to watch the giant creature lift a man and then throw him, screaming, across the square.   
I said a prayer for their souls and turned my back on them.   
I walked till my feet begged me to stop. I was out of the woods now and I set up camp beside the road near a fast-flowing stream. I had only a little knowledge of where I was going. The only thing I cared about was that I was going away.   
I made a little dinner and ate it happily. Washed my hair in the stream and lay by my little fire to sleep. If bandits or anything else were out here tonight I had no strength to fight. Better to sleep and trust to luck.


End file.
